The Labyrinth of Passion (romantic experiences)

by Charles Westmont

One quiet afternoon, she sat as usual on Vincent’s awaiting lap, submissive, in expectation of his performance. She was surprised to see the door open and Vincent invited the young stable helper to come in. Paolo was deaf and mute. He was adopted by Vincent as a caretaker and slept in the barn. Justine often saw him stare at her. From his demeanor, she had understood that he was too shy to engage with her. Vincent lifted Justine in his arms and, pushing Paolo to sit, he placed Justine on his lap. Vincent took Justine’s face between his hands and began to kiss her gently. Justine felt completely under his control and remained motionless. The change of scenario made her feel uncertain, but she was soon relieved by the familiar tongue renewing with her mouth.

  Paolo crotch pressing on her thigh was swelling rapidly, but the pressure was not bothering her for the least. Vincent’s mouth began pulling away from hers. His hands kept holding her face. Vincent turned her head gently, pushing her mouth on Paolo’s opened lips. Vincent kept his tight hold as Paolo began foraging around her lips with his tongue. It took a few minutes before she began a fencing match with Paolo’s tongue, moving inside her mouth with fury. Vincent pulled back, sitting on a chair in front of them in close observation.

  He began to smile, when he saw Paolo’s hand move to Justine breasts and begin a caress. Justine’s arousal had intensified from the long awaited experience that was never attempted by Vincent. She undid the two buttons that separated Paolo hands from her skin and revealed two full breasts with hardened nipples. Paolo’s hands began competing in ardor with his tongue, caressing each breast in turn. Vincent could see Justine panting, moving her body wildly despite Paolo’s tight hold. When Paolo began pinching the pointed nipples, Justine exploded in a loud scream, her body shaking with pleasure. Justine kept moaning. Her eyes were shut tight and she was hugging Paolo’s body with a frenzy. She never saw Vincent wipe his penis and replace it in his pants. “I think my little bitch is ready,” he concluded, after seeing them off the trailer.

  Paolo had become her favorite at caressing her breasts. Vincent had begun opening her shorts to let Paolo caress her pussy. He would encourage Paolo to force his finger inside her damp mound. Vincent would be satisfied to watch, enjoying the stimulation toward a discreet ejaculation.

  She had stopped breathing, frightened, rigid, and glued to her mattress. The slight knock on the door had pulled her from a light sleep. She had not slept much. Last night Vincent was adamant that he wanted to make love to her this morning. For two weeks, he had become more insistent after their long afternoon caressing bouts, at times alone, at times with Paolo and sometimes jumping from one lap to the other. “I must make love to you, my darling. I dream that I may be the first one.”

  Last evening, after a second vodka at the disco, the thought had become less frightening and somewhat appealing. She left him a message that she would be awaiting his visit in the early hours of the morning. But after slipping into bed, the thought became less attractive, even frightening. It was too late to stop him, he would be here before anyone would awaken in the household.

  “Justine, open the door!” She froze at the frightening call. “Maybe, he will think that I am not in my room or that I went to sleep with my sister,” she hoped. “Justine wake up and open the door,” his voice was becoming more insistent. Worried that he would awaken the whole house, she pulled herself up and walked to the door. She opened the latch and ran back under the sheets. Vincent came in, locking the door behind him and without undressing, he lay quietly beside her. He could not detect the faintest movement or breathing from his reluctant bed partner.

  “Justine, do not be so frightened. I will not do anything to hurt you.” He proceeded to gently unclasp her hands which were clinging desperately to the sheets. He moved his head over hers and began to brush her face with his lips. With this approach so familiar and welcomed, she began to relax to let his tongue penetrate her mouth. She had grown so accustomed to his gentle kissing that she let herself sink into the widening pool of his desire. She felt the light, caressing pressure of his body over her hard nipples, and did not notice that his hand had removed the sheet and lifted the nightdress covering her body. She welcomed his hand parting her thighs. He began rubbing his body over her mound.

  She was overtaken by the feeling of surrender that was calling every part of her body. Her mouth was elated at the wild but gentle aggression of his tongue. Her breasts were rising in search of friction in the hopes of relieving her nipples. Her pussy was welcoming the pulsing of his erection over her mound, demanding a counterpoint. Her thighs became unruly, and with a mind of their own, they parted in search of relief. Her wide open vagina engulfed a first erection, while her thighs closed on him. “The bitch is one hell of a fuck,” he mumbled to himself. Then he lost all control and his mind went blank, he pulled out, ejaculating on her stomach. He left the room without a word.

  The following day, Justine was sitting at the dining room table. Papa had flown in the night before, for a rare visit. He had spent the afternoon with his friends at the local bar. Justine had found it strange that his eyes kept coming back to her. He turned, “Our daughter has become quite a little whore. Everyone in town has heard Vincent boasting of his morning exploit of jumping her in her own bed.” Justine was hard at work repressing her anger and resisted throwing her glass at his face. She left the table.

  Farniente

  Justine was dancing, captured in her mood, conflicting thoughts rushing through her mind: “Why are men so deceitful and disrespectful of my feelings? Papa always ignores me, except when he finds an occasion to hurt me. Vincent took his pleasure to play with me and then boasted to everyone about his conquest. It may have taken me time to consider men for what they really are, but in the future, they will be toys for my pleasure. Toys to be handled with extreme caution. It is so easy to trap them. I will use and abuse them. I will get rid of them, before they have an opportunity to hurt me.”

  Coming out of her thoughts, she noticed the Italian motorcycle gang from previous evenings sitting in a circle. She danced her way to their table and with an enticing twist, she eased herself on the first offered lap. She was in the mood for action and she began a ritual to seduce them all at the same time. Shaking her butt over her first victim’s crotch, she brushed his ears with her lips, whispering words that made the young man burst out laughing. Before he had time to place his arms around her, she jumped to the next lap, discovering the young man’s bulge pushing between her tights.

  “What is your name?” she asked, twisting over him. “Marcello,” he let out, half stunned between pain and excitement. She grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his lips then pulled away. She dropped on the next fellow, who immediately pulled her down and welcomed her with his tongue slipping between her lips. She momentarily let go of all resistance, enjoying the lush feeling of his aggression. Then unexpectedly, she escaped to the next young man. She kept going around, bestowing each member of her new found Italian club with a taste of her charm.

  They could not get enough of their new pet, pulling her from one to the other all evening long. She took Marcello’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor. One by one the others joined the couple. Completely surrounded, she could not quench her thirst of the pleasure. She swayed and twisted her body with a sensual fury that she did not recognize in herself. She swung her long blonde hair back and fro, at time covering, at time revealing her face and lips in defiance of their excitement. They returned to exchanging memories and jokes, laughing companionably. They were impressed by her fluency with the Italian language.

  Looking at the clock, Justine stood to bid her new friends a pleasant night and walked out to the beach at an unsteady pace. She felt great and decided to follow the beach to get home. Marcello had noticed her wobbling, and pulling Paolo by the arm, they followed Justine. They found her standing still in the beam of the full moon. The diffused light glowing on her skin was like a lighthouse, guiding the ship of their desire. She had stopped enjoying the hot sand and the mild wi
nd competing to caress her. Her eyes were shut and she did not notice their arrival. She felt a light brushing on the back of her arm and opening her eyes, she saw Marcello and Paolo standing at her sides. “I hope we did not frighten you, we thought you might appreciate our assistance with getting you home safely?”

  She did not say a word, but the moonbeam on her face gave enough of an answer. She took both Marcello and Paolo by the hand and began a slow walk. She stopped. She could not and did not want to move any further. Her whole being was aching to retain the state of bliss that had slowly invaded her all evening. She released the hands of her companions and in a swift move she let the top of her bikini fall to the sand, swiftly followed by the bottom. The moonlight was an accomplice in revealing her nudity and the look of delectation on their face. She pulled Paolo firmly and began to remove his clothing. Marcello was following the developments. He did not have to wait for an order to strip naked. Pulling her two friends face to face, she slipped between their bodies and began rubbing and twisting on them languorously. She pressed her hips vigorously on Marcello’s rock solid erection and guided Paolo’s hands to her breasts. The wild bacchanale continued for a while. The boys’ excitement made them more daring, but she resisted their insistence to take her to the ground. Instead, she kept them busy standing for their labor. She was enjoying the way Marcello was manipulating her pussy while Paolo sucked her nipples. She pulled away and ordered the boys to masturbate for her pleasure. After a brief hesitation, they complied with her invitation. They sat on the sand in front of her and began stroking their penises. “Now suck!” They raised their eyes at her, perplexed. “Suck!” She repeated. She bent forward and forced Paolo’s head on Marcello’s crotch. In seconds, the boys were rolling on the warm sand in an embrace, sucking each other’s penis with an interesting, if not surprising determination. They became so taken by their work that they did not notice Justine’s departure until after they shared their pleasure. She had left feeling sober and overtaken by the pleasurable memories of the evening. She came to her room and fell asleep.

  Dominique

  “I did not appreciate the attention you displayed to my Dominique this afternoon, you bitch!” The cute little brunette had undertaken to confer on Justine an expression of her jealousy with limited restraint. Justine was sitting at their table and she could not manage the mixed feelings invading her.

  Earlier that afternoon, she had been lying on her favorite corner of the beach. She had opened her eyes to see him at her side. He was quite cute as the sun reflected on his blond hair. “Dominique is the name. You are very beautiful.” Enticed by his broad smile, the conversation developed rapidly on hairdo fashion. Dominique, feeling confused by so much beauty, remembered enough of the basic principles of his trade to invite her to visit his salon in Paris. He was explaining his hair styling technique while rubbing tanning oil over her body.

  At that moment, the brunette had arrived. “Dominique! what are you doing? It is time to go,” she said dryly without another word. He followed her order, but on his way, he turned to invited Justine for drink at the bar. Without any hesitation, she joined them readily and was amused to face the anger of the cute little brunette. Justine towered over the girl by a good few centimeters, stretched even higher by the much too obvious attentions of Dominique. “Should I slap her, call her stupid or better.”

  She saw Dominique returning to the table with the cocktails. A malicious smile swept over her face. They were sitting and chatting, but the little pest kept glaring. Turning toward Dominique, her arm inadvertently pushed the Bloody Mary over the brunette’s white beach dress. The waitress ran toward their table and helped the brunette to the bathroom. Justine grabbed Dominique by the arm and pulled him toward the men’s shower room on the far side of the bar.

  She felt great, driven, and powerful. She opened the door and pushed him against the wall. Without a word, she pulled his trunks down and dropped on her knees, she began sucking his cock, keeping his body pinned against the wall. Dominique was watching the door nervously but was quickly overtaken by the ardor of his aggressor. She sucked at his balls and cock, taking the whole apparatus in her mouth. He began moaning and jerking violently and he filled her mouth. She stood looking at him for a moment and wiped her lips. “I will call you in Paris for an appointment next month,” she promised and left.

  Arrivederci

  The moonlight adventure on the beach had a sobering effect on Paolo and Marcello. They had difficulty coping with their homosexual experience, mostly because they feared the reaction of their peers. They would keep their secret buried deep in their memory, but were worried about the possibility of Justine talking. More than two weeks had passed and there was no reaction from anyone. They came to the disco on occasion. Justine was very cordial and welcomed their invitations, but in the end, she had reverted to dancing with herself in front of the large mirror.

  That evening Marcello had driven his parents’ car instead of his Guzzi. After a few drinks, he decided to leave early. He began driving home when he was stunned by an unexpected hand brushing his head from the back seat. In his rear-view mirror he saw Justine’s face enticing him. She was playing with her nude breasts. Her nipples were pointed at him. He became so excited that he barely made it to a quiet alcove in order to park the car. She grabbed his neck and engulfed his mouth with a darting tongue. He took notice that she was completely naked.

  Pushing her aside, he jumped over to the back seat. Justine was quite aroused and began rubbing her breasts on his face. His mouth was following her movements in an attempt to capture her hardened tips. She finally allowed him to capture a nipple. He began nibbling and biting gently. “You are a good little dog Marcello. Bite the other, we cannot cause envy in the neighborhood,” she was whispering with great difficulty. Her insides were overcome by such forceful feelings, there was little room left for air. She kept pressing her breasts on his face, pinning him to the back seat. Her hand was very active, stroking and abusing his erection. She turned around and pressed her pussy to his face, rubbing with ardor. “Lick your Mistress.”

  She kept forcing her open pussy on his nose and mouth, drenching him. “You are a good little puppy lick…suck…Ahhh.” Her last words were lost when she captured his erection in her mouth. She choked with pleasure when his penis invaded her throat. She stopped and turned, her wet pussy capturing the penis. She began to sway back and forth, their crutches flexing in full tension over the narrow seat. It was her first climax in total communion. She felt that his juices were penetrating her insides, all the way to her soul. With a last scream, she let herself fall over him. They stayed motionless for long minutes, savoring the feelings of intense pleasure.

  A Presage from Osiris

  The family had stretched the holiday in Corsica to the limit. Justine offered to drive the car back home, allowing Maman and her sisters to return by plane in time for school opening. She had another week before entering Bordeaux University at the Law Faculty.

  After landing in Marseille, she opted for the east central highway. The choice would add to the trip in distance, but was so much more pleasant. From the fully open windows, the radio was beaming from NRJ, her favorite station. The wind was blowing her hair, drawing sensuous energy from the beautiful fall day. At the first toll, she took notice of a handsome gentleman. His silver hairs gave his tanned complexion a look of self-assurance and importance. She pulled away without noticing that the gentleman was waving in her direction. She entered the next toll to see the gentleman pulling in the next booth. He smiled at her and asked if she would join him at the next rest area. She pressed on the accelerator and proceeded without acknowledging his advances.

  At the next toll, she had become apprehensive of a possible approach. The screen showed the fee to be thirty five francs and she realized she did not have enough cash. She opened the glove compartment and retrieved her Carte Bleu. She turned to the cashier though her movement was blocked by the gentleman standing at her window. “Do n
ot be annoyed at my insistence mademoiselle, but I felt compelled to pay tribute to your unique beauty. However, since you have allowed me to talk to you, you must share a responsibility to help me with an important obligation. Please have the consideration to call this phone number when you have a little time to yourself. I will make love to you on the phone.” Justine started the car, intrigued and perplexed that she had listened to the stranger’s request and even accepted his card. The rest of the way, she kept thinking of the handsome stranger. She wondered if it was possible and how it would feel, to make love over a telephone conversation.

  It was a few hours after arriving home, late that evening. “Where are you?” the deep voice erupted from the phone. It had taken all her courage to dial his number. She had made more attempts than she could account for, interrupting the calls before the first ring. She had waited until everyone was sound asleep and then locked her bedroom door. She had placed the phone on the position to block others from listening to her conversation.

  Feeling her hesitation, he proceeded. “I would venture to say that you are in your bed at this late hour.” His voice on the phone seemed quite different from earlier on the highway. It had a very deep and dark tone, very masculine. It had a strong appeal to her senses. “I am lying on my bed,” the words escaped her lips in a faint whisper. “What are you wearing?” The voice sounded deeper, enveloping her inhibition with comfort. The sound of his voice was calling to her, reaching sensors that were buried in a deeper part of herself. It sounded warm, cozy, giving her an urge to surrender. “What are you wearing?, he repeated.” She surprised herself with the promptness of her answer. “The same clothes that I wore this afternoon.”

  “Good! This is much better, I rediscover the lover that I have desired with more passion than any other through the ages.” The word lover felt strange to her.